Geiren's Revenge
by CoinOperated
Summary: Born into a life of adversity, Geiren sets out to find the mysterious men who brutally raped and murdered her mother 10 years ago. When Geiren gets mistaken for a man and is pushed into a certain bandit, things get interesting…
1. Way Back When

**Disclaimer:** I didn't create Fushigi Yuugi, otherwise I wouldn't be writing fanfics about it anyways.

**A/N:** So. Here you have a little story. Geiren, an original character, retells the story of her past which is a huge part of the plot. First fic I've ever written, so please give me any type of feedback. Enjoy.

**Chapter One**

Even after her death, they all say that Mother was asking for it. _Any _prostitute who gets too selective with her drunken customers is begging for demise to come her way. The commotion over Mother's death was no longer than the two short-lived hours when they ditched her ashes into a mud puddle. At first, they still remembered her name, and then she became known as one of the hundreds of prostitutes who came and went at the small tavern situated just outside of Eiyou.

I was 5 years old at the time. Many say that memories earlier than a child's fifth birthday are temporary, then eventually are forgotten; everyday, I pleaded that mine would be.

Due to Mother's profession, I've concluded that I was one of those children that just came out of the blue or in other words, unwanted and without a father. Mother had a rough pregnancy; high fevers, abdominal pain and chucking up her stomach contents every other morning. Her pimp Plasu, like any pimp with a shred common sense, tried his hardest to convince mother to abandon me after birth just as she had done with her previous child.

I never knew that I had a half-brother until the day I walked in on Mother chatting away with the eldest prostitute. From what I overheard, he too, was an "unexpected" child. Mother kept him until the age of two when his mischievous boy nature started kicking in. With not much of an opinion from Mother, Plasu chucked him into the hands of a passing bandit, who, to my surprise, agreed to keep the wailing child. I later confronted mother about this. She denied his existence and then gave me a good beating. I never asked about him again.

However, Mother, being the kind woman she was, decided to keep me, but of course, strictly on the terms that her infant wouldn't interfere with any "business". I didn't know what "business" meant back then, so I've walked in on her and several men on a few occasions. When she quietly shooed me away and apologized to the balding man, I knew what she was. Most children would be traumatized at the discovery that their single parent fed them on the basis of selling her own body, instead, I observed her because I was sure that I had the same fate.

She was a good whore to say the least; it was no wonder that Plasu refrained from kicking her out when she gave birth to me. She was a strong woman who appeared submissive at times to get what she wanted. Her ability to adapt to any man's preference intrigued me and soon, at the age of 4, I started to learn the fine art of seduction.

Mother would gracefully slide into a man's lap and if he wasn't mesmerized yet, she'd arch her back and give him a good eyeful of her half exposed breasts. She'd whisper things in his ears, dirty things I presume, with that quiet, lingering voice of hers. By now, the man surrenders all forms of consciousness and gives in to the striking woman no matter empty his money bag is: that matter, is for Plasu to deal with.

"Don't…no, Geiren," Mother used to plead. "Don't watch me. I'm not ashamed, for I've repeated this deed over and over again until it has lost all meaning. I don't want the same thing for you."

I'd look up at her with my eyes wide and tell her that I'm sure I was going to stay here just as she did.

She looks down with hurt in her eyes, gives me a strong blow to the cheeks and tells me that she's disappointed. Those were her last words to me.

That night, Mother tiredly served 6 men and went back down to the tavern for a swig of sage. A thunderstorm had erupted outside, so the tavern began to empty out for the night. Mother said her goodnights to Plasu and the many prostitute awaiting slumber.

When the tavern was completely drained of its usual brawling, Mother took out a glass and began to drink. Unaware that I intently watched her from the aging stairs, she finally let herself wander the realms of human emotion. Small tears dripped down her to the table, creating dark blotches. I have never seen Mother like this.

With a thud of the tavern door, Mother quickly composed herself.

Four dripping wet men stood before her dressed in black cloaks. Even from the stairs, you can smell their presence that was something along the lines of strong sage mixed sweat. They demanded to be served immediately.

I'm not sure how mother managed to tell four tall, well-built, intimidating, not to mention drunken men that the tavern was closed for the night and she wasn't in any mood to "screw revolting bastards." Mother always gave off an aura of being slightly drunk, but I never knew it had gotten so bad.

They smiled under their black hoods.

"Ya wanna be crippled for the rest of your life, whore? Ya better serve us before we get angry. Ya do it everyday, doncha? Fucking other men out of their minds…"

I begged mother to admit defeat. Instead, she gave them a little piece of her mind. _That _wasn't a very bright idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Disclaiming…disclaiming….disclaiming…I don't own FY characters who haven't even appeared in the story besides my own characters…. disclaiming… done.

**A/N:** A little further back into time. This gives the goods on Geiren's mother and a bit on the mystery men. A long chapter indeed. Rated R for rape and a considerable amount of cussing.

**Chapter Two**

Ichii was exhausted. Anyone who obstructed her way was sure to get a piece of her mind. She trudges down the creaky staircases, determined to make sure her foul mood penetrated the main halls of the shabby, miniature tavern that was otherwise known as "The God's Gift."

"_God's Gift my ass,"_ she thought to herself every time she went by the loft-sided sign that was supposed to look quite extravagant but only rendered as contradictive. The tavern itself didn't match its name: the quality of sake was the lowest of its class, the right side of the building was shedding pieces of wood every once in a while, and at last, the whores found in "The God's Gift" gave the poorest of men something to complain about – well, that is to say, with the exception of Ichii and Mikki.

Mikki is the eldest of the group and though she was already entering her mid 40s, Plasu's customers never took notice. She was bold, saucy, selfish and quite the narcissist; these characteristics are the exact ones that made her an above-average whore.

Years of prostitution led Mikki to the discovery that once you have a man between your sheets, manipulating him was an effortless feat; getting him there was the harder part of the job. She experimented with large sums of men, who all came flocking back not a week later. Needless to say that Plasu was beyond pleased. He doubled the price for Mikki and used the money to buy himself a spanking new whore.

Plasu found Ichii on the streets of Eiyou in a near-death state. She was covered in rags, asleep with a small piece of blackened bread in her frail hands. Her abnormally tanned face suggested that she had been in the sun for way too long and her features were nothing special.

She looked more of a child with her round cheeks and large eyes than a well equipped whore. Her nose was not as defined as Plasu would've liked and only her thickset lips hinted that she was beyond her children years. Sensing his presence, she lazily opened her eyes.

Right then and there, Plasu had the choice of taking in a very unpromising girl or buy himself that bubbly blonde who was now cooing at him from down the street. Surprising himself, Plasu hunched over the small girl and offered her his hand.

The arrival of Ichii had not been a pleasant one. Complaints from the other whores flew themselves at Plasu when they discovered that an unattractive child was now their colleague – not that they were prizes themselves. No doubt Mikki had thought Ichii was only a child who would scream the roof down when she had her first customer. She hated girls like that: the ones that whimper and beg. _"What's the use?" _she thought. "_What's your screaming going to do for you? Save your last ounce of dignity and don't let them know that you're fucking afraid."_

Contrary to Mikki's beliefs, no screaming or pounding was heard that night.

When Ichii impassively descended the stairs with nothing but five newfound copper coins sitting between her bosoms, Mikki smiled for the first time in 8 years at the finding of a potential student.

She personally had taught Ichii the tricks of the trade. From luring a man into your arms to getting rid of the emotional aftermath, there was no doubt that Ichii learnt rapidly and well. It didn't take long for Ichii to become the most sought after prostitute of the tavern and Mikki herself felt nothing but fierce pride.

Memories of Mikki were one of the two things that kept Ichii's sanity these days. Mikki had fallen madly in love with a customer just last year and ran away with him. To Plasu's fury, he doubled Ichii's working hours and took his rage out on the other prostitutes.

Ichii, unlike the rest, could not help but feel contentedness when she thought of Mikki's newborn love. She once thought that she could find love, but she sure as hell wasn't going anywhere now that Plasu's New Year's resolution was to keep a closer eye on her. The other whores talked of Mikki bitterly, but Ichii couldn't hate them either. They, after all, were the ones tending to young Geiren when she spent restless nights providing sex for men.

Much to Ichii's relief, Geiren turned out to be a lively and understanding child. She never questioned Ichii's profession for if she did, Ichii's heart was sure to break. She wanted bigger and better things for Geiren, but much to her dismay, Geiren always recognized "The God's Gift" as her home and will be her _only_ home. Ichii would slump her shoulders with hopelessness, realizing that 5 year old Geiren, was probably right.

Sound of heavy rain percolated the tin walls of the tavern and reached Ichii's ears. Many customers gathered up their possessions and headed for the door. _Ah finally. _It had been quite a night; 6 brutal, drunken farmers in a row. Perhaps it was due to the meager harvest this year that the men seemed more vicious than ever. Ichii remained impatiently in the staircase, hidden from anymore grumbling men who might've wanted one last turn with her.

When the last customer slammed the door behind him, only the shuffling of the other worn-out prostitutes could be heard. They hurriedly stampeded to their rooms, each saying a feeble goodnight to Ichii along the way. Plasu, who had been immensely satisfied with the night's earning, tossed 4 extra copper coins on the steps before Ichii and exited the tavern.

Like a hungry dog after its meat, Ichii bent down to gather her tip. After all, it was well deserved; after all, any money would be helpful because Ichii wasn't planning on coming back.

It was rare that Plasu would leave the girls alone for one night. He openly told all the girls that he had tamed them; that they had belonged to him, and if they ever dared to walk out the front doors of "The God's Gift," no one in the world would have wanted filthy whores. Ichii was determined to prove Plasu wrong.

She was going to get out of there; pack her belongings and run away with Geiren to start a new life – after a swig of ale that is.

Ichii smiled at the thought of Plasu's smug face tomorrow once he realizes that once again, his best business slipped out of his hands. She didn't hate him, quite the contrary; she was rather fond of him. After all, they did have a fling some years ago ended by his narrow mind-set that a whore should remain in her place. Now, Ichii was growing weary of the repetitive lifestyle…no one was going to stop her.

She picked up the small cup of ale she poured for herself and touched it to her lips. Moisture clouded over her large eyes as she thought that freedom was finally not so far away. She had never let herself go so far before, not quite like this, no matter how joyful or miserable.

A gust of wind blew the tavern entrance wide open bringing about a sudden slam in the air. Feeling a little more than slightly drunk, Ichii composed herself, ready to bar up the door and call it a night.

Before Ichii even managed to take a step, four lofty figures sauntered in briskly. Even covered up with bulky full-bodied robes, their sturdy build was indisputable. Feeling an unusual surge of nerves, Ichii wasn't going to be intimidated. Not tonight.

"You boys better get cherselves goin'. Bar's closed for the night, can't cha tell by the weather…?"

Not a sound came from the group. They simply planted themselves in the nearest table and amused themselves with Ichii's bantering. When they grew restless, the leader of the foursome speedily seized Ichii by the forearm.

"We're lookin' for service." He spat directly into Ichii's face. "Now, yer gonna shut yer pretty little mouth and tend to me and my buddies here…"

"Or else?" Ichii retorted.

The hooded man pulls Ichii against him, ensuring that she was able to detect his overpowering breath which reeked of sage and blood. "..Or else, we'll help ourselves."

In a matter of seconds, Ichii was lying face down on the ground; arms sprawled out, already bleeding from her lips. She had gotten used to this type of humiliation. This time, she wasn't going to stand for it.

"Ya wanna be crippled for the rest of your life, whore? Ya better serve us before we get very angry. Ya do it everyday, doncha? Fucking other men out of their minds, you dirty fucking whore."

"Sorry boys. Afraid ya can't get cher service tonight. The others are asleep and I'm in no mood to screw any one of ya ugly bastards. Come back tomorrow when the sun is a little brighter."

Ichii was surprised at herself, saying a thing like that. The number one rule of hand was not to reject drunken customers, but a little blood was worth the momentary gain. She smiled to herself smugly, half expecting the men to turn around and go back to where they came from.

How wrong she was.

The leader wasted no time in capturing Ichii's small body and driving her forcefully into the table where the others had once sat. Roughly removing the thin layers of fabric covering her nether-regions, his hand came quickly and firmly, attaching itself to her naked buttocks sending a sharp note which echoed in the small space.

Ichii winced. It was no use to yell. The others lived three floors up and couldn't possibly hear her. Even if they did decide to come down for a late-night snack, 3 whores weren't a match for this crowd. Ichii decides to take it; to accept this like she had done numerous of times before. She couldn't let her freedom slip now, not when she was so close. She'll wait for them to be done and carry on with her life. As she waited, Ichii wept.

Their thrusting was never ending. Man after man, they took turns going at her with no less strength than they had in the first round, and not a sign of stopping.

It was into the second hour when Ichii could cry no more. Her eyes had dried up and so had her cunt. Everything ached and throbbed. For the first time in years, Ichii wished that Plasu had been by her side.

When the last man finished his turn, he threw his harlot aside, indifferent towards her massive blood lost and bruises. Giving her one last kick in the stomach, the men collected their trousers and began to file out.

Ichii lay limp on the ground, blood spewing from every one of her bodily orifices. _How nice. _She thought. Plasu will find himself a dead whore by tomorrow morning.

A familiar creak in the stairs caused Ichii from drifting off. Maybe they had come for her...The silence that followed told Ichii that she was mistaken. Discovering a traumatized, shaken Geiren locked behind the bars of the staircase, Ichii thought that perhaps she was closer to freedom than she thought she was.


End file.
